


A Fool's Game

by leigh_adams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh_adams/pseuds/leigh_adams
Summary: In the bedroom she shares with her husband, Daphne Greengrass-Goyle meets her lover.





	A Fool's Game

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is set in an AU where Voldemort was not defeated at Hogwarts, but rather won the battle and therefore control of the wizarding world. If you'd like to read the smutty outtake, you can find it [here](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_humpdrabbles/8333.html#two) at [Harry Potter Hump Drabbles](http://hp_humpdrabbles.livejournal.com). Written for the [Numbers Game Ficathon Fall 2009](http://community.livejournal.com/rarepair_shorts/288616.html) at [Rarepair Shorts](http://rarepair_shorts.livejournal.com). Enjoy!

She wasn't surprised to see him, lounging about on her bed as if it was _their_ room, when she returned home from the Malfoy's Ball. Of course he'd been there himself, but it was as it had always been; they'd arrive separately- her on the arm of her husband, him with his flavor of the week- and they'd depart separately. Sometimes they met at his flat, other times at a hotel room he'd procured for the evening.   
  
There were other nights, though, that her husband would be called to the Dark Lord's side and dispatched to do his business. It was those nights that they met here, in the room she shared with Gregory. It didn't matter that what they were doing was wrong, because it was _oh so_ right.   
  
"I like your dress," he said, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror as she sat down at her dressing table. "Green suits you."   
  
Daphne raised a brow as she removed the teardrop diamond earrings, setting them down in their black velvet case. "You shouldn't be here," she said softly, even though the words weren't what she wanted to says. She _wanted_ him there. "I don't know how long Gregory will be gone tonight."   
  
"He's gone to Sarthe," Blaise replied, dismissing her worries with a half-wave. "He won't be done until tomorrow morning, at the earliest."   
  
Curious green eyes met his. "Draco?"   
  
"Draco."   
  
She nodded. It said something for the state of their world when her husband's former friend not only knew about the affair, he helped orchestrate their clandestine liaisons behind Gregory's back. Gregory had always been Draco's bodyguard, of sorts, but Blaise was one of the few people who Draco counted as friend. She supposed that was why he helped, although she didn't question it. 

Whatever motives Malfoy had, they would remain his own.   
  
"I suppose it was only a matter of time before our Lord extended his reach to the mainland," Daphne remarked as she reached around to the clasp of her heavy necklace.   
  
Two warm hands met hers, carefully undoing the clasp and reaching around to set the necklace down. She sighed, leaning back into his comforting arms as his hands slid down to the bare skin of her shoulders. It was Blaise's arms that had held her, the first time when she'd been sixteen and her mother had been slain by her own husband for disobeying the Dark Lord, the second time when he'd written to her with news of her betrothal to that troll masquerading as a human, Gregory Goyle. It had spiraled from there and hadn't stopped with her marriage. She'd never hoped the Order would win, for they stood for that which she stood against, but had they won, she would have found salvation of sorts. She wouldn't be trapped in this sham of a marriage to a man in service to the most evil wizard the world had ever known.   
  
If the Order had won, she'd have been free to be with her 'bastard son of a golddigging whore,' as her father so kindly referred to Blaise.   
  
"Don't think about him," he murmured in her ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of her neck as he slowly tugged one tiny strap down her arm. "We're here, and we're together, and that's all that matters right now." As he spoke, he tugged her other strap down, letting her dress fall around her waist.   
  
She wore no undergarments, hoping and anticipating that this was the way her evening would end. As his strong, dark hand cupped her breast, she exhaled in pleasure and reached up to cup the back of his head.   
  
" _Blaise_ ," she whispered her voice naught but a whispered plea in the darkness of the room. It called to his blood and made his heart beat faster, his breaths quicken.   
  
Needing no more encouragement, he scooped her off of her stool and into his arms, crossing to the bed covering her body with his before she could react. 

  
  
*~*~*~*~*

  
  
"Gregory wants me to take the Mark," Daphne said softly, much later in the night after they'd made love several times. Their bodies were still naked, and the sheets clung to their sweat-slickened skin, the red silk framing their bodies; one dark, one light. 

Yin and Yang.   
  
Blaise was silent for a long moment, contemplating the hardly surprising announcement.   
  
"When?" he asked, stroking his hand down her arm in a halfway-reassuring gesture.   
  
"The Solstice," she answered. "Astoria, Pansy and I are to take it." 

Her cousin's family had tried very, very hard to remain neutral and had almost succeeded, but with each passing day, more and more Pure families joined with the Dark Lord. Daphne knew it was just to save themselves, but it painted a bleak picture for the future.   
  
"That should please Theo." 

After the betrothal between Astoria and Draco had been broken off by her father, she'd quickly been betrothed and married to Theodore Nott before either party could back out.   
  
Daphne snorted, a most unladylike sound. "Theodore is the _only_ one who wants her to take it." 

After the murder of her half-brother, Michael, and most all of his classmates- all members of what remained of the Order of the Phoenix, Astoria had undergone a transformation, it seemed. She'd changed from a pampered Pureblood socialite to a hardened, bitter shell of her former self. The only two left alive who Astoria could count as a true friend were Pansy and herself.   
  
"It must have been hard for her, watching her husband execute her friends," Blaise commented quietly.   
  
"We've all seen friends murdered, why should it be any different for her?" Daphne retorted coldly. Tracey and Millie, both gone and by Gregory's hand. While she'd never felt any love for Tracey, Millicent had been like a sister to her, and her light had been snuffed out forever because of something her _imbecile_ of a brother did.   
  
Blaise was silent, the truth of her words clashing with the emotionless tone of her voice. It made him feel so powerless to watch this magnificent, strong, independent woman shrink into nothing but an trapped, angry sprite. She'd changed so much since marrying Goyle; her frame was now gaunt and thin, her once proud breasts reduced to nothing more than bee stings on her chest. Her hair, once lustrous and blond, was now stringy and dark brown- her husband felt she looked more 'demure' as a brunette.   
  
The very idea made Blaise roll his eyes at the sheer stupidity. As if Daphne could ever be _demure_.   
  
"I have to take the Mark, and then I have to give Gregory an heir," she said hollowly, as if saying the words made the acts behind them any less deplorable. "I have no choice left."   
  
"What if you did?" he asked after a moment's pause. "What if there was another option?"   
  
Daphne gave her lover a long, appraising look. "Do not toy with me, Blaise. Speak clearly and tell me what you mean."   
  
"I mean run away with me," he replied, his voice low and soft as if the very walls had ears. Then again, knowing how Goyle was, they very well might.   
  
She didn't bother to hide the surprise on her face. "You're barking mad," she finally said.   
  
"Which would be worse?" Blaise asked, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "Taking the Mark and having Greg's child, or death?"   
  
There was no need to think about that. Daphne knew which was worse. "I'd sooner die than give birth to Gregory's child," she spat. The very thought of being stuck with a brute of a child that shared half of her husband's genes made her sick to her stomach. And if she had a girl? She knew that he would continue forcing her to share his bed until she gave him a son.   
  
"Then come with me."   
  
She shook her head. "Draco will tell him I'm with you."   
  
"So?"   
  
"So, we'll be hunted to the ends of the earth. Gregory won't rest until we're dead."   
  
He shrugged, as if the thought of death didn't bother him. "What does it matter? I lo-"   
  
Daphne pressed her finger to his lips to silence the words. "Don't say it, Blaise," she said softly. "We're Slytherins; we don't have the luxury of that emotion. You shouldn't even _think_ it."   
  
"Keeping it quiet doesn't change the fact, Daphne," he replied, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. "I would sooner die than live another day without you."   
  
One dark brown brow rose above her green eye. "That's a statement worthy of a Gryffindor."   
  
He smirked. "They may be a hot-headed, noble lot, but they did get a thing or two right. Of course, I'll deny I said that to my dying day."   
  
"If we do this, your dying day may come sooner rather than later," Daphne remarked dryly. The idea of running away with Blaise had merit; it would save her from the Mark and from Gregory, two things she'd wished to have removed from her life since she was eighteen. "Where would we go?"   
  
"Mother just left São Paulo. We could start there, and move on as necessary." Thanks to his mother's seven marriages, Francessca Zabini had collected over twenty properties worldwide, and they were all accessible to her only son.   
  
"We're playing a fool's game," she commented. "And fools, you and I are not."   
  
Blaise smiled- _her_ smile, for she was the only one he ever gave a true smile to, and leaned down to kiss her. "We are all fools in love." 


End file.
